Going Like Elsie
by persnef
Summary: A Maria POV of life for the humans after destiny strikes.


Title: Going Like Elsie  
  
Author: Persnef  
  
Disclaimer: not mine. The song is from the musical 'Cabaret'  
  
Distribution: Lisa, Raye and Jennifer, anyone else just has to ask  
  
Rating: a mere PG  
  
Spoilers: the whole season   
  
Author's Notes: This was inspired by the fic 'No Regrets' by Sara, a fic that is so bittersweet, it brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. I'm totally promoting her fic here, and I hope she doesn't mind. I don't know where you can find it, but you have to find it and go read it. It might possibly be at the raddish site. Also, this story will make much more sense if you've seen any version of the musical 'Cabaret'.  
  
More Author's Notes: Kisses and Hugs go out to the lovely aG, who came to me in my time of need to give me advice. Thank you also to anyone else who volunteered.  
  
Twenty First of May 2000  
  
***  
  
What good is sitting alone in your room?   
Come hear the music play,   
Life is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret.   
Put down the knitting, the book and the broom,   
It's time for a holiday,   
Life is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret.   
Come taste the wine, come hear the band,   
Come blow your horn, start celebrating,   
Right this way, your table's waiting.   
What good's permitting some prophet of doom,   
To wipe every smile away?   
Life is a cabaret, old chum, so come to the cabaret!   
I used to have this girlfriend known as Elsie,   
With whom I shared four sordid rooms in Chelsea   
She wasn't what you'd call a blushing flower,  
As a matter of fact she rented by the hour   
The day she died the neighbors came to snicker   
"Well, that's what comes from too much pills and liquor."   
But when I saw her laid out like a queen,   
She was the happiest corpse I'd ever seen.   
I think of Elsie to this very day.   
I remember how she'd turn to me and say:   
"What good is sitting all alone in your room?   
Come hear the music play,   
Life is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret."   
And as for me, and as for me,   
I made my mind up, back in Chelsea   
When I go, I'm going like Elsie.   
Start by admitting, from cradle to tomb   
It isn't that long a stay   
Life is a cabaret, old chum,   
It's only a cabaret, old chum,   
And I love a cabaret.   
  
***  
  
Maria smiled at the crowd. She loved singing. Everyday, she thanked any gods that were listening, for the fact that her mother had encouraged her to start singing professionally. If it hadn't been for her mother, she might have ended up working in her mother's store - although of course, that would have been her mother's fault too.  
  
***  
  
I wasn't going to do the professional band thing. I thought I was moping along just fine as I was. But Mom pushed me into it. "Get on with your life," she said. She made me choose to take up hockey. She made me decide to try out for the cheer squad. And she made me want to sing.  
  
My mother fell in love with a man called Jim. A man I had known my entire life, and who had terrorised me for a few years. She fell in love with him, and married him. I was about nineteen at the time. It was a very small thing - my stepbrother Kyle and I, and the guy who married them. I didn't even want us to be there. I didn't want any evidence of this unholy event. But my mother deserved some happiness, and I knew that, even in my selfish view of the world, Jim could make my mother happy. And he did, for a while. They had a honeymoon, and they came back, and Mom was glowing for weeks. I was so happy for her - I love when my mother is happy. When Jim proposed, I think she was the happiest that I've seen her ever.   
  
But Jim was the town sheriff, and one day he was on a routine job, and Jim died. I probably could have been a little more upset than I was, but really, the only reason I was upset was because it made my mother sad. She stopped living that day. She still breathed, for years after his death she was still in her shop, selling souvenirs to tourists, but she stopped living her life. Eventually, Mom stopped working altogether, and just stayed in the house. The only people she saw were me, and occasionally Kyle.   
  
She used to tell me she could hear Jim calling to her, talking to her, telling her that it would be all okay, that he was waiting for her. I think that she was just deluding herself. Nobody's lover waits for them, no matter how much they love them.  
  
I live life for my mother because I want to.  
  
My Beth comes to every performance that she can make. She stands front and centre, yelling and carrying on so much, that if you'd been away for ten years, you'd never recognise her. The years haven't harmed my Beth-girl that much. She's still just as beautiful as the day her heart permanently broke, if a little older, and maybe a little sadder.  
  
My Beth changed her name the same day as I did, the same day as our other refused to. It was the day we embarked on our new lives together. It was the day she became a molecular biologist, it was the day she achieved her childhood dream. We were out there, doing things, and we decided to mark the occasion with something special. So we changed the names that this world knew us by.  
  
But my Beth doesn't seem the same, although she looks the same. Molecular Biology just isn't what my Beth thought it would be. It was lacking that certain someone that she'd always associated with biology, but she never thinks about that. Never, ever.  
  
My Beth has a beautiful son. He is ten years old, and his name is Miguel-Evan. He's a beautiful boy, with deep brown hair, normal ears, and eyes so deep you feel you could lose yourself in them. He is our only testimony to that which destiny stole from us, our only testimony to that which we lost, our only testimony to the catalyst to our desire to control our own destinies.  
  
My Beth has been married for a while now, to a man she met about eight years ago, to a man who accepts that my Beth will always belong to me and our Alex before him, to a man who treats her well enough. I know she doesn't love him, but that's okay, because neither our Alex nor I expect her to.  
  
I choose to be happy for my Beth.  
  
Our Alex stands next to my Beth at every performance he can make. He doesn't like to leave the house - he was in an accident about three years ago, and it's a little hard for him to walk these days. But he tries to be brave for me - he tries to make me proud of him. He wants to live up to the standards that I set for all of us - the standards that I live by every day.  
  
I've chosen to be strong for our Alex.  
  
The audiences loves me. They cheer when they hear my name, they cheer when I come on stage. I know that they love me before they even get a chance to see me.  
  
I love what I do. I love getting up in the morning, and knowing that the only things I have to do all day are things that I have chosen to do - that I want to do.  
  
***  
  
Tommy proposed to me today. Why do they keep doing this to me? I guess I just seem like the settling-down type. Maybe it's vibes that I give off - but it always seems to be the wrong kind of vibes. I don't know if I even believe in vibes any more - or the vibrators that give them off.  
  
Moms aren't always right, no matter how much you want them to be.  
  
Tommy is a great guy, really. He cares about me, he comes to my shows - when I tell him they're on - he's a really good cook, he remembered my birthday, and the birthdays of my Beth and our Alex - even though we don't celebrate our birthdays anymore. He makes me breakfast, and doesn't interrogate me when I'm late.   
  
But he knows that I'm just not the marrying kind. Tommy's great, and I love him - I love a lot of people these days - but I'm just not a girl who's willing to settle. I want a man who makes me sparky inside, and Tommy just doesn't do that for me. And that was fine, until he tried to prove that he could make me sparky.  
  
So it's time to move on.  
  
It's a shame - my Beth and our Alex were really starting to like Tommy.  
  
***  
  
I grew my hair long again. I like it. I tie it up in a pony tail, and can shake my head and it feels funky on the back of my head. My Beth and our Alex tried to talk me into cutting it again when it fell past my shoulders, because it reminded them of too much, but I refused. I like it long. It's all shiny, and this nice blonde colour. People don't believe me when I tell them that I'm a natural blonde. Tommy was convinced that I was a red-head, until I had sex with him.  
  
When I run my hands through my long and blonde and straight hair, I feel like something's wrong with it, but I can't put my finger on it.  
  
But if I can't remember, then it can't be that important.  
  
***  
  
When Tommy asked me to marry him, I told him no. I tried to let him down easily, but let's face it - I've never exactly been the tactful type. I'm Teflon, and I guess I've always just assumed that everyone else is too. But I guess I have to face facts - some people get hurt really easily. So I sent my Beth in to explain things to him.  
  
After I sent my Beth in, I went to prepare for tonight's show. I guess Tommy won't be there for me tonight, but that's okay, because there will be so many friendly faces in the audience - as always.  
  
Afterwards, I met a nice guy, who told me I'm cute.  
  
I know you can't tell anything from first impressions, but what the hell.  
  
***  
  
I have a nice townhouse. My Beth and our Alex don't live there, but they do spend so much time in it that they have their own rooms. I'd put one in for my mother, but she'd never leave her house to come stay in mine, so why should I waste the space?  
  
I go dancing every Saturday. I like to put in an appearance at the local clubs - it makes the establishments wildly happy, and they play my kind of music more. And what can I say? I just love to dance. It's almost as fun as singing - sometimes I'd say that it's better, because I don't get to madly swing my body around when I'm singing - well, I could, but I'd look just a tad bit silly if I did it.  
  
I have a good rapport with all the bartenders and bouncers in town. People don't realise it, but when you do what I do, the people you want to know aren't the great high up executives, or the managers, but the bartenders and the bouncers. Sometimes the waitresses are good to know too, if they aren't all flighty blondes. Sometimes being blonde is a good thing, because people underestimate you.  
  
It's enough to make a girl laugh, when I see how stupid some of these stuffy managers are. They think just because they're management, I'm going to fall at their feet to get my way. But I don't. I hassle and I whine and I bat my eyelids, and if they're cute I'll have sex with them, and then they're mine forever, to do with what I please. But Gods - why would I want to look at them more than I need to to get my stuff in?  
  
I choose to live life for me.  
  
Drugs are not my scene. It surprises many a person when they find out this stunning fact, but it's true. I do not do drugs. And I don't drink either - just like my Beth and our Alex. We promised ourselves that we would never do anything that meant we weren't in full control of all of our faculties. We want complete control over our lives.  
  
That's why I don't sleep with people. I have sex with them, but I leave before they wake up, and I wander home, or I go find another bed to sleep in - one without anyone else in it. I have refused to sleep in the same bed as anyone else since I was sixteen.   
  
Other people clutter the bed, and make it warm in places that it shouldn't be, and make me think things that have the potential to make me sad.  
  
I choose to be happy for me.  
  
So I've never given in to the temptation to fall asleep in a bed with someone else in it. Well no, I lie. I once fell asleep in the same bed as my Beth and our Alex, but that was only very soon after we made our promise to never take drugs, or drink alcohol, or sleep in a bed with someone *other*. And it was the only time, because waking was so very painful, even if the sleeping was the only good sleep I've had since they day we made our promise.  
  
I choose to be strong for me.  
  
***  
  
Maria Deluca. I was twenty-one when my manager decided that my name was a gift from the Gods - at least I wouldn't have to change it from an embarrassing or boring name, for the tabloids to have a field day with in twenty years time. And to top it off, my manager said it was a cool name. So my manager chucked a fit when I insisted on being called Marie.   
  
I never had sex with my manager, although my manager wouldn't have been adverse to the idea. But there's something about women with ringleted hair that just turns me off. I wonder if you can be bigoted because of hair?  
  
I don't have sex with everyone I meet. That would be silly, and take all the fun out of it. But I don't have the usual moralistic argument that everyone else has - there is no special somebody wandering this earth, waiting to find me. So I choose not to allow myself to be caught in the never-ending moral deliberation that consumes millions of human lives.  
  
If I want to do something, I do it.  
  
I choose to guide my own existence, and be satisfied and happy with every moment.  
  
But sometimes, I look out at the stars, and I look at a certain V-shaped constellation, and I find it hard to breathe.  
  
And sometimes I look, and I suddenly can't see anymore, because the tears that I try so desperately to hold back blur and block my vision.  
  
And sometimes I don't look, and it still hurts.  
  
But no matter what, no matter what has come, and no matter what will come, it doesn't matter.  
  
Life is short, and you only get one.  
  
What's the point of wasting it?  
  
***  
  
"Where are your troubles now?  
Forgotten. I told you so.   
We have no troubles here.  
Here, life is beautiful.   
The girls are beautiful.   
Even the orchestra is beautiful."  
- The Master of Ceremonies, from 'The Finale' of Cabaret.  



End file.
